DRAWN 
SHUTTERS 

BEATRICE 
REDPATH 


DBRW 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFQBNIA 

RIVtRSID* 


DRAWN   SHUTTERS 


DRAWN    SHUTTERS 


BY 

BEATRICE   REDPATH 


LONDON  :  JOHN  LANE,  THE  BODLEY  HEAD 
NEW  YORK  :  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 
TORONTO    :    S.     B.     GUNDY    :    MCMXVI 


Pi-inted  in  Great  Britain 
ly  Turnhill  df  Spears,  Edinhurgh 


CONTENTS 


DRAWN    SmiTTERS 

THE  DANCER 

DAISIES 

STILL  LIFE     . 

TO  ONE   LYING   DEAD 

THE   SEA 

THE   YEARS     . 

THE   APPLE   TREE  . 

EARTH   LOVE 

THE   MOTHER 

THE  CANARY 

AT  TWILIGHT 

REVERIE 

SLEEP     . 

THE   SEA   SHELL       . 

THE    DAUGHTER   OK   JAIRUS 


PAfJE 
I 

4 
7 
8 

9 
13 
14 
i6 

17 
19 
24 

26 

27 
28 

30 
31 


DRAWN  SHUTTERS 


SHADOWS 

A    MEMORY      . 

THE   SILVER   SCARF 

THE   PURSUER 

GOLD    HAIR     . 

THE   RETURN 

JUNE 

THE   BRIDGE  . 

MY  THOUGHTS 

SAILORS 

AUTUMN   SUNSET    . 

AT   DUSK 

YIERGE   CONSOLATRICE 

THE   DEPARTURE   . 

DAFFODILS      . 

AT   THE   LOOM 

BEYOND  THE   SUBURBS 

AN   IMPRESSION 

SPRING   . 
REBELLION     . 
THE   CLOWN    . 
THE    RKLKASE 


I'AGE 

34 
35 
37 
39 
41 
42 

45 
46 
48 
49 
54 
55 
56 
58 
60 
61 

63 
66 
68 
69 
74 
75 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

COLD 

.           78 

THK   day's    KNDING          .... 

80 

IHE   OLD    HOUSE 

.           81 

TO    A    i;kKKK    STAT  UK      .... 

.              .              .           85 

AIKIL 

.              .              .           87 

THE    LITTLE   STONE    HOUSE     . 

88 

FULL    NOON     

.      90 

BURIAl 

.       92 

Al     NIGHT 

•      93 

THE    DEAD   SOUL 

94 

DRAWN    SHUTTERS 


DRA  WN  SHUTTERS 

The  red  geraniums  on  the  window  ledge 

Blaze   through   the  shutters  drawn  against  the 

sun 
A  nd  heat  that  rises  from  the  street  below. 
Life  in  its  flood  sweeps  steadily  along, 
A  pageant  lavish  of  its  flare  and  soimd. 
The  high  white  blaze  of  noon  beats  down  out- 
side, 
A  barrel  organ  jingles  out  its  tune, 
A  sloio  procession  in  a  long  black  file 
Beats  a  dull  rhythm  from  the  paving  stones. 
A  man  with  fruits  to  sell  cries  out  his  wares, 
The  swift  sharp  noise  of  many  horses  feet 

A  I 


2  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

Strikes  steadily  above  the  changiftg  sounds. 
The  sun  lies  hot  upon  the  dust  gray  streets, 
But  here  behi?id  the  shutters  closely  drawn 
Only  a  single  bar  of  sunlight  slips 
And  lies  a  straight  bright  line  upon  the  floor. 
The  yellow  frames   shine  from,    the  cool  gray 

walls 
A  nd  still  white  peonies  are  like  wide  cups 
Of  porcelain  to  hold  fai)tt  perfumes  in. 
Here  all  remote  from  the  great  szveep  of  life 
I  strive  to  trace  on  thin  white  fluttering  leaves 
Some  part  of  that  which  I  have  known  and 

seen  : 
Fragments  of  life,  a  face  that  tells  its  grief, 
A  hillside  fiercely  yellow  with  spring  bloom, 
A  room  where  shades  are  drawti  and  hands  are 

stilled, 


DRAWN  SHUTTERS 


Or  gardens  where  love  whispers  in  the  leaves. 
Behind  the  shutters  drawn  against  the  sun 
I  strive  to  trace  the  fragments  I  have  seen. 


THE  DANCER 

The  music  broke  and  clung  unto  the  air 

In  dizzy  spirals  of  ascending  sound, 

The    dancer    swayed     a     moment     standing 

there  .  .  . 
Then  blossoms  seemed  to  start  from  out  the 

ground 
Dancing  deliciously  within  the  sun. 
A     vagrant     wind     danced     all    the    hillsides 

down, 
Bending  the  slender  birch  trees  one  by  one, 
Until     each     slim     white     image     seemed    to 

drown 
In  the  calm  waters  of  a  listless  pool. 
4 


THE  DANCER  5 

Some  others  flung  their  bright  green  veih'ngs 

wide 
To  bare  their  limbs  unto  the  breezes  cool. 
The    clouds'  slow  course    became    a    reckless 

glide, 
Till  flushed  to  colour  by  their  wilful  glee 
They  hid  behind  the  stiff  pine-pointed  shore. 
Now  wheeling  upward  buoyantly  and  free 
A  seagull  rose  with  pinions  spread  to  soar, 
Striking    its    wings    against    the    sun's    warm 

heart, 
That  splashed  them  o'er  with  crimson  as  with 

blood. 
And    there    was    glint    where    leaping  waters 

start 
And  frolic  through  the  shadows  of  a  wood, 
Tossing  upon  the  air  bright  jets  of  spray. 


6  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

Slowly  the  stars  crept  out  above  the  hill, 
Leaning  to  peer  where  their  reflection  lay 
In  the  deep  waters  breathless  now  and  still. 
Then  dusk  came  quietly  with  timid  feet, 
Bearing  within  her  arms  the  veils  of  night  .  . 
The  music  altered  to  a  quicker  beat, 
The  dancer  stood  there  swaying  in  the  light. 


DAISIES 

White  daisies  that  are  swept 

By  winds  which  softly  blow, 

They  are  the  tears  by  little  children  wept 

And  now  in  pastures  grow. 


STILL  LIFE 

Bright  tiger  lilies  with  harsh  yellow  leaves, 
Awkward  and  stiff  within  an  earthen  bowl, 
Protruding  their  thin  evil  tongues  at  me, 
Splashed   with  dull  spots  that  seem  to  stand 

out  high 
From  the  flat  canvas  ;  ah,  how  I  feel  there 
That  man's  full  fury,  trampled  on  by  life, 
Baffled  in  every  hope  he  would  pursue. 
Rent  by  the  discords  sounding  in  his  soul, 
Angered  and  beaten  back  till  he  could  paint 
Those  tiger  lilies  with  their  cruel  leaves, 
And  their  thin  evil  tongues  protruding  so. 


TO  ONE  LYING  DEAD 

Strange  that  thou  h'est  so,  void  of  all  will 
For  loving  ;  so  content  with  thy  long  sleep 
That  neither  word  nor  sound  may  stir  the  still 
Calm  quiet  of  the  dream  that  thou  dost  keep. 

Pale  now  the  cherished  contour  of  thy  face, 
Thy  lids  lie  heavy  'gainst  the  ache  of  light, 
And  hold  in  their  wan  stillness  ne'er  a  trace 
Of  waking  from  the  shadow  of  thy  night. 

Languid  thy  tender  feet  unsandalled  rest. 
Wearied  of  passage  o'er  the  furrowed  earth  ; 
They  say  thou  art  gone  forth  upon  thy  quest 
Seeking  a  greater  fullness  of  rebirth. 
9 


10  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

Yet  all  that  I  have  ever  known  of  thee 

Lies  here.     What  has  gone  out  from  thee  this 

hour 
That  leaveth  thee,  unstirred  by  word  from  me, 
Low  lying,  like  a  fallen  scentless  flower  ? 

Hadst  thou  a  soul  which  through  the  drifting 

years 
My  earth-bound  vision  was  too  dull  to  see  ? 
And   didst   thou  know  the  weight  of  unshed 

tears  ? 
Hadst  thou  a  spirit  straining  to  be  free  ? 

A  heart  that  knew  regret  and  all  desire, 
And  envy  and  that  malice  men  call  hate, 
And  saw  with  fear  the  slow  consuming  fire 
Of  life,  and  learned  to  be  compassionate  ? 


TO  ONE  LYING  DEAD  n 

Then  all  of  this  was  what  I  knew  not  of, 
Thou  wert  but  loveliness  made  manifest, 
And  wore  the  garment  fashioned  of  my  love 
So  fittingly  that  I  ignored  the  rest. 

Shall  all  of  thee  that  I  have  ever  known 
Become  as  dust  the  sun  shines  not  upon  ? 
I  did  not  know  thy  soul  so  strangely  flown, 
So   may   not   find    thee   where  thou    now   art 
gone. 

Then    let    me    kneel    thus    worshipping    and 

see — 
Thee  whom  I  love,  still  lying  as  thou  art, 
That  I  may  ever  keep  long  dreams  of  thee 
And  hold  thine  image  close  within  my  heart. 


12  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

So  shall  I  look  upon  thy  face  so  fair, 

And  thy  sealed  lids  which  sleep  doth  seem  to 

please, 
Thy  mouth's  pale  blossom  and  thy  fallen  hair, 
Where  heavy  shadows  lie  at  pleasant  ease. 


THE  SEA 

The  sea  is  kind,  it  giveth  rest 
To  those  who  wearied  are, 
Canopied  by  the  crimson  west 
And  candled  by  a  star  ; 
The  sea  is  kind,  it  giveth  rest 
To  those  who  wearied  are. 


13 


THE  YEARS 

Within  old  cloistered  woods  I  hear  leaves  fall 
As  softly  as  a  quiet  summer  rain, 
The  earth  lies  silent  'neath  its  leafy  pall, 
While  years  tread  softly  where  dead  hopes  are 

lain  ; 
Ah,  hear  the  wind  that  whispers  to  the  fern, 
The  footsteps  of  old  years  shall  not  return. 

And  some  passed  swiftly  as  a  pulsing  flame, 
While   there  were  those  that  dreamed   'neath 

slumb'rous  skies, 
Some  sped  white-winged  and  others  stumbled 

lame, 

14 


THE  YEARS  15 

Some  years  were  as  a  wheeling  flight  of  sighs  ; 
Ah,  hear  the  wind  that  whispers  to  the  fern, 
The  footsteps  of  old  years  shall  not  return. 

Oh,  time  of  hidden  pain,  oh,  time  of  tears, 
Now  would  I  rest,  for  I  am  weary  quite ; 
The  years  move  always,  slowly  drifting  years, 
Beyond  the  shadow  of  the  Infinite. 
Ah,  hear  the  wind  that  whispers  to  the  fern. 
The  footsteps  of  old  years  shall  not  return. 


THE  APPLE  TREE 

Its  branches  soar  deliciously 
Unto  the  film-clouded  skies, 
And  past  the  flushed  bloom  sleepily 
Drift  tinted  butterflies. 


i6 


EARTH   LOVE 

God,  in  Thy  Heaven  hast  Thou  ever  known 
Toil,  when   the  heart  and   hand  were  fused  in 

one, 
The    sweet    bruised    scent    of    grasses    newly 

mown, 
The  sharp  deh'ght  to  see  each  dawn  the  sun 
Rising  above  the  margent  of  the  seas  ? 
And  hast  Thou  ever  felt  within  Thy  Breast 
That  strange  delight  in  dim  uncertainties 
With  every  day's  apparellings  unguessed  ? 
Ah,  hast  Thou  lain  with  wide  entranced  eyes 
Wrapped  in  the  purple  veilings  of  the  night 
Beneath  the  fretted  splendour  of  the  skies 

B  17 


1 8  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

And  seen  them  tressed  with  coronal  of  h'ght, 
Yearning  to  push  their  silvern  fringe  apart 
And  so  adventure  to  Eternity  ? 
God,  I  have  strangely  felt  it  in  my  heart 
Walking  upon  the  earth  to  pity  Thee. 


THE  MOTHER 

So  quietly  lay  the  babe  along  her  arm 
Hard  was  it  to  believe  what  she  had  done, 
But  now  her  child  should  never  come  to  harm, 
And  she  cared  little  if  to-morrow's  sun 
Should  find  her  but  a  wastrel  and  forlorn. 
How  dark  'twas  here,  the  leaves  shut  out  the 

sky 
And  scarcely  could  she  see  if  it  was  morn. 
But  she  was  glad  that  no  bright  star  on  high 
Had    pierced    those   leafy  branches  'bove   her 

head 
And  seen  that  which  it  were  not  well  to  see. 
Now  she  would  lay  her  babe  in  this  soft  bed 

19 


20  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

Of  grasses  where  the  ferns  pressed  heavily, 
And    flowers    were   folded    close    against    the 

ground. 
How   deep    her   slumber    and    how   long    her 

sleep 
Where  she  would  never  wake  to  any  sound. 
Her  child  would  never  lie  awake  to  weep 
At  night-time  for  the  evils  of  the  day, 
Nor  know  the  awful  grimness  of  that  place 
Where  she  had  passed  her  childhood  all  away. 
As  though  to  be  a  child  were  some  disgrace 
And  so  must  eat  but  penitential  bread. 
And  she  would  never  sit  through  weary  hours 
With  tired  fingers  and  with  aching  head, 
Cutting  the  petals  for  bright  cotton  flowers 
That  so  she  might  gain  bread  and  toil  some 

more. 


THE  MOTHER  21 

But  he  came  then  .  .  .   and  now  her  pale  lips 

smiled, 
And  yet  she  grieved  as  she  had  not  before 
That  she  had  stolen  this  joy  from  her  child 
To  know  how  sweet  and  tender  love  may  be. .  .  , 
Well  she  remembered  how  he  often  spoke 
Of  that  small  cottage  builded  pleasantly, 
Amid  the  fields  and  far  from  noise  and  smoke, 
Where  the  green  days  deliciously  would  glide, 
And    where    winds    tarried    'mid    the    ripened 

grain 
Until  it  rippled  as  a  golden  tide. 
And    she  would    plant    bright   flowers    behind 

each  pane, 
For  children  love  to  watch  a  flower  unfold. 
And  then  with  trembling  joy  her  heart  would 

fill  .  .  . 


22  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

He  said  their  love  needed  no  bonds  to  hold, 
And  she  had  always  bent  unto  his  will.  .  .  . 
And  yet  she  scarcely  blamed  him  even  now, 
That  he  had  grown  so  wearied  of  her  soon, 
A  man  may  not  keep  always  to  his  vow, 
And  day  shall  not  stand  ever  at  full  noon.  .  . 
But  those  like  her  should  never  have  a  child, 
And  so  she  had  to  put  her  babe  to  sleep ; 
It    seemed  to   her  just   now  those  white  lips 

smiled, 
How  glad  she  was  her  child  would  never  weep. 
Ah,  she  was  thankful  for  what  she  had  done. 
So  often  she  would  think  of  this  green  wood 
When  she  was  gone,  of  how  the  shining  sun 
Would  fall  between  the  leaves  in  yellow  flood, 
Of  how    the    flowers   were    sprinkled    on    the 

ground 


THE  MOTHER  23 

As  white  as  that  small  cloud  up  in  the  sky, 
Here  hours  lapsed  slowly  to  the  stream's  low 

sound, 
While  here  on  nights  the  moon  that  swung  so 

high 
Would    weave     for    her     lone    babe    a    silver 

shroud.  .   .  . 
She  did   not  know  how  she  could   leave    this 

place, 
And  then  she  cried  in  broken  prayer  aloud, 
And  hid  within  her  tremblin<j  hands  her  face. 


THE  CANARY 

I  THOUGHT  he  was  so  yellow  in  the  sun, 

All  barred  about  by  his  small  cage  of  gold, 

And  always  as  he  leapt  from  perch  to  perch 

His  little  notes  bespoke  a  timid  joy. 

But  all  so  soon  I  wearied  of  him  there, 

Disdaining  him  that  he  had  dared  no  flight, 

Against  the  wind  and  up  into  the  sky, 

To  touch  the  dizzy  stars  with  eager  wing 

Above  the  dark  cloud  canopies  of  night. 

For  there  he  hopped  through  hours  of  every  day. 

And  if  he  were  to  fly  beyond  the  pane 

He  could  not  ride  upon  the  least  of  winds 

Or  ever  dare  the  silences  of  sky. 

And  then  I  turned  with  song  upon  my  lips, 
24 


THE  CANARY  25 

Hearing  the  sudden  closing  of  the  door, 

While  he  for  tenderness  said  unto  me, 

"  My  little  song-bird  in  a  yellow  cage." 

And  so  I  started  back  with  widened  eyes 

And  saw  my  yellow  walls  like  bars  of  gold, 

While  the  stiff  flounces  of  my  silken  dress 

Were  yellow  as  the  plumage  of  my  bird. 

And  then  I  said,  my  voice  all  fallen  low, 

"  A  little  song-bird  in  a  yellow  cage 

Who  makes  no  flight  into  the  lonely  sky. 

To  ride  wide-winged  against  persisting  wind 

With  will  to  gain  unto  the  trembling  stars." 

And  suddenly  and  all  to  his  amaze 

I  opened  wide  the  cage  unto  the  air. 

And  when  he  would  have  stopped  me  in  dismay 

I  said,  "  Let  all  canary  birds  be  free, 

And  learn  to  spread  their  timid  wings  in  flight." 


AT  TWILIGHT 

I  HAVE  lighted  the  tapers  each  side  thy  head 

And  gathered  fresh  bloom  for  thee, 

I  have  wept  and  prayed  as  I  knelt  by  thy  bed 

And  have  laid  thee  back  tenderly  ; 

Now  my  feet  are  still  and  my  hands  fall  wide 

As  I  sit  by  thy  side. 

Ah,  why  should  I  braid  up  my  fallen  hair 
And  for  what  should  I  go  to  the  well  ? 
Should  the  dawn  sky  be  ever  so  red  wouldst 

thou  care 
Or  wake  from  thy  quiet  spell  ? 
Shall  I  hear  not  again  thy  feet  on  the  floor 
Nor  thy  hand  on  the  door  ? 
a6 


REVERIE 

I  THINK  that  once  thy  tender  feet  were  shod 
With  silken  sandals,  while  amidst  thy  hair 
White  diamonds  glimmered  at  thy  head's  slow 

nod, 
And  all  was  done  for  thy  sweet  body's  care  ; 
But  thou  didst  stoop  to  sin  on  some  old  day, 
That  day  which  only  dreams  may  bring  again, 
And  so  thou  walkest  in  the  shadows  gray 
Attended  only  by  the  wind  and  rain. 


ay 


SLEEP 

Upon  the  hillsides  every  yielding  fern 
Droops  to  the  touch  of  slow  distilling  sleep, 
Which  floats  like  wreathing  incense  from  an  urn 
Across  the  hills  ;  the  dark  trees  seem  to  creep 
Closer  together  with  a  shiv'ring  sigh, 
Folding  into  the  shadow  their  wide  boughs 
From  which  the  wind  has  fallen  silently. 
The  heavy-headed  blossoms  droop  and  drowse, 
Closing  their  cool  curled  petals  one  by  one. 
Across  the  pastures  heavy  sleep  rolls  down 
Where  on  the  grass  light  winds  are  wont  to  run 
Through  all  the  day  ;  now  muffling  sleep  doth 
drown 


SLEEP  89 

Unto  a  whisper  the  last  tinkling  bell. 
Only  the  noise  of  the  deep  breathing  stream 
In  the  wide  silence  louder  seems  to  swell, 
Its  arms  outstretched  within  a  happy  dream 
Unto  the  sea,  which  like  a  woman's  breast 
Stirs  with  a  languid,  fluctuating  breath. 
Even  the  old  stone  wall  so  greenly  tressed 
With  its  imperishable  ivy  wreath 
Clings  closer  to  the  ground  on  which  it  lies 
And  sleeps  beneath  the  moon's  transparent  pall ; 
The  last  pale  glimmer  fades  from  out  the  skies, 
And  sleep,  compelling  sleep  enfoldeth  all. 


THE  SEA  SHELL 

Rose  pink  and  with  a  soul 
That  singeth  of  the  sea, 
The  sounding  silver  sea, 
The  vapour-hidden  sea, 
Thou  fairy  curved  bowl, 
Unfathomed  mystery. 


30 


THE   DAUGHTER  OF  JAIRUS 

I  HAVE  fashioned  soft  raiment  for  her  to  wear 
And    have   laid    her  embroidered    sandals  in 

her  room, 
1  have  said  I  would  braid  and  bind  her  heavy 

hair, 
But    she    has    gone    out    to    the    orchard    to 

gather  bloom. 


Last  night  she  lay  in  the  dusk  with  her  eyes 

adream. 

And   I   questioned   of  what  were   her  dreams 

as  I  touched  her  hand, 
31 


33  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

But  she  looked  at  me  with  a  smile  in  her  eyes' 

dark  gleam, 
What    word     might     she    use    to    make    me 

understand  ? 

So  she  spoke  instead  of  the  earth  all  bathed  in 

light, 
Of  the  moon  as  a  lily  when  the  leaves  unfold, 
Of  the  trees  like    silver  plumes   to   deck   the 

night, 
Of    the    starry    skies    as    a    blazoned    script 

unrolled. 

She  has  no   praise  for   all   she  had   cherished 

before, 
And  has  given  away  her  beads  of  yellow  gold, 
Strange  she  seems,  yet  more  kind  than  hereto- 
fore. 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  JAIRUS  33 

And   I  marvel   much  at  the  dreams  she  must 
withhold. 

She  has   spoken    no  word    about   her   curious 

sleep, 
And    the    light  in    her  eyes   we  have    vainly 

essayed  to  read, 
The  secret  of  her  dream  she  must  hidden  keep, 
For  her    lips    are    framed  but   to    an    earthly 

need. 

She  has  left  her  sandals  lying  upon  the  floor 
And  all  untasted  her  goblet  of  amber  wine, 
She  has  gone  out  to  the  sun  beyond  the  door 
To    sit    in     the     cool    green     gloom     of    the 
hanging  vine. 


SHADOWS 

I  THINK  we  are  as  shadows  meant 
To  rest  a  moment  on  the  ground, 
By  gusts  of  passion  torn  and  rent, 
Then  to  pass  outward  without  sound. 


34 


'       A  MEMORY 

Pale  face  'neath  shadows  of  dim  hair 
And  mouth  like  ripe  pomegranate  stain, 
Wouldst  thou  have  memory  or  care 
To  dream  of  that  still  hour  again  ? 
That  little  hour  when  hopes  rode  high 
Like  slender  moons  across  the  sky. 

So  we  a  moment  gladly  grasped 

From  all  eternity's  swift  tide, 

Thy  tender  hands  by  mine  held  clasped, 

While  we  sought  dreams  .  .   .   that  since  have 

died  ; 
In  that  still  hour  when  hopes  rode  high 
Like  slender  moons  across  the  sky. 
35 


36  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

And  thou  wert  like  a  yielding  bough, 
Whilst  all  my  love  was  as  a  flame 
Close  wrapping  thee  ;   I  wonder  now 
If  thou  couldst  e'en  recall  my  name, 
Or  that  still  hour  when  hopes  rode  high 
Like  slender  moons  across  the  sky  ? 


THE  SILVER  SCARF 

She    wound     the    silver    scarf    close    to    her 

throat  .  .  . 
I  thought  of  silver  moths  that  fleck  the  dusk 
With  the  transparent  shimmer  of  their  wings, 
Of  stars  reflected  in  a  mountain  pool, 
Of  moonlight  dripping  through  thick  clustered 

leaves ; 
I  thought  of  the  bright  silver  of  live  seas, 
Of  shining  fantasies  of  ocean  spray. 

I  saw  her  wind  that  scarf  close  to  her  throat 
When  months  had  taken  heavy  toll  of  love  ; 
I  thought  of  myriad  serpents'  eyes  agaze 
37 


38  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

Through  the  dank  reeds  that  fringe  a  stagnant 

pool  ; 
Of  sword-blades  gleanning  o'er  a  field  of  blood, 
Of  diamonds  shining  on  a  harlot's  breast. 


THE  PURSUER 

I  HAVE  endured  the  trampling  feet  of  years 
And  won  my  way  through  pit'less  chasms  dark, 
Wherein  did  lurk  all  terrors  and  dread  fears, 
My  mind  dishevelled  and  my  soul  all  stark 
Of  any  faith,  from  which  I  e'er  could  wring 
Salvation  ;  yet  strained  forward  to  attain 
That  which  should  make  an  end  of  turmoiling 
And  yielding  forgetfulness  of  mortal  pain. 

Through   sordid  ways  my  courses  have  been 

run, 
By    streets    where    houses   grayly    marshalled 

stood, 

39 


40  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

Fettered  in  rooms  all  witless  of  the  sun, 
Down    haggard    lanes,    gated   with   crumbling 

wood  ; 
And  yet  my  feet  abandoned  any  rest, 
And  would    pursue  that   which   I   yearned  to 

see, 
The  revelation  of  my  earthly  quest, 
The  unknown  rapture  to  enfathom  me. 

And  if  beyond  the  turning  of  some  way, 
Across  the  threshold  of  a  shuttered  door 
Down  the  worn  track  of  old  familiar  day 
I  may  not  reach  my  goal,  then  'chance,  before 
Mine  eyes  have  widened  wholly  from  the  sleep 
That  shall  encompass  me  with  purple  night, 
Into  my  waking  soul  shall  slowly  creep 
The  perfect  rapture  of  abiding  Light, 


GOLD  HAIR 

I  HAVE  seen  swallows  drifting  o'er  the  seas, 
And  moonlight  silvering  a  cloister  wall, 
Wide  orchards   blossomed   white  with   happy 

trees. 
And   forests  where   the  leaves   bright  crimson 

fall, 
But  never  seen  such  beauty  anywhere 
As  the  warm  flaming  wonder  of  thy  hair. 


41 


THE  RETURN 

Untrodden  is  the  grass  before  the  door 
Where  green  reeds  gather  whisp'ring  each  to 

each 
Of  thee ;   and  how  thou  shalt  come  here  no 

more 
Nor    thy    pale    hands    the    raining    blossoms 

reach  ; 
So  like  a  sigh  the  breeze  now  seems  to  be, 
Or  dost  thou  whisper  softly  unto  me  ? 

Where  shadows  closely  falling  seek  to  shade 
All  things  that  were  full  dear  to  thee  and  me 
The  echoes  of  my  footsteps  slowly  fade 
42 


THE  RETURN  43 

Like  slow  vibrations  of  a  soulless  sea  ; 

Or  is  it  that  thy  feet  do  follow  mine, 

And  echoes  sounding  are  the  beat  of  thine  ? 

So  soft,  so  slow  the  summer  rains  descend 
Upon  the  flow'ring  spaces  of  the  ground, 
Where  now  the  languid  Lenten  lilies  bend 
As  swayed  by  one  who  passes  without  sound  ; 
The    grasses    tremble   'neath   the    drops  they 

bear. 
Are  they  thy  tears  now  fallen  lightly  there  ? 

So  wanly  now  the  white  moths  stirring  rise, 
Their  silver  wings  as  frail  as  were  thy  hands, 
Which   at   the   last   caressed    my    face,    mine 
eyes 


44  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

'Ere    thou    wentst    forth   to    seek   for    hidden 

lands  ; 
Oh,  art  thou  here,  or  where  then  mayst  thou 

be, 
Thou  seemest  far  and  yet  so  close  to  me  ? 


JUNE 

An,  canst  thou  not  forget  to  weep 
What  time  the  silver  stepping  dawn 
With  silent  feet  doth  softly  creep 
Across  the  lilied  length  of  lawn  ; 
While  day  is  filled  with  melody 
Of  singing  wind  and  swelling  tune, 
And  boomings  of  the  brown-winged  bee 
Proclaim  the  early  days  of  June. 


45 


THE  BRIDGE 

Sharply  defined  against  the  sulphur  sky 
In  naked  strength  the  bridge  lies  long  and  lean 
Between  opposing  shores  ;  and  always  there 
The  crowds  press  forward  in  a  long  gray  line 
That  knows  no  end  even  when  daylight  sleeps 
And  shadow  forms  about  the  haggard  piers. 
Stamped  with  the  jar  and  fret  of  life  they  are, 
Those  faces  passing  there  indefinite, 
Small  blurs  of  white  against  a  sombre  sky. 
At  times  a  waggon  heaped  with  market  bloom 
Blots  its  clear  crimsons  up  against  the  gray 
That  closes  round  it ;  slow,  processional, 
To   sound   of  choking    horns    and   grumbling 

wheels 

46 


THE  BRIDGE  47 

The  long  gray  line  rolls  on  and  has  no  end 
But  weariness  and  meagre  ease  of  life. 
And  yet  all  day  the  water  there  beneath 
Offers  its  peace  in  cool  insistent  tones. 
Below  the  bridge  it  seems  a  supple  shield 
Against  which  noise  may   hammer  and    may 

break, 
But  cannot  pierce  unto  the  cool  green  depths 
That  offer  ease  and  sleep  and  rest  from  sound. 
The  long  gray  line  rolls  on  continual, 
And  if  some  pausing,  lean  upon  the  rail 
In  weariness,  with  eyes  turned  on  the  calm 
Of  those  still  depths  with  longing  and  desire, 
'Tis  but  a  moment  and  again  the  crowd 
Gathers  them  back  to  life  from  dreams  of  ease. 


MY  THOUGHTS 

My  thoughts  are  as  a  flock  of  sheep 

Upon  a  windy  wold, 

At  eventide  they  homeward  creep 

To  shelter  from  the  cold  ; 

And  when  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep 

They  rest  within  the  fold. 


48 


SAILORS 

Always  when  he  would  go  for  walks  with  me 
We'd  climb  the  little  hill  beyond  the  town, 
From  there  he  said  it  seemed  so  like  the  sea 
To  look  upon  the  fields  when  winds  had  blown 
The  grasses  till  they  fell  aslant  the  sun. 
The  blossoms  were,  he  said,  as  plumes  of  spray 
That  broke  above  the  waves  in  noisy  fun. 
And  often  I  would  pause  upon  my  way 
From  school  and  wait  for  him  outside  his  door, 
He  always  seemed  so  glad  to  come  with  me 
And  tell  me  of  sea  tales  from  his  great  store. 
For  I  had  such  deep  yearning  for  the  sea. 
Which  in  my  life-time  I  had  never  seen, 
D  49 


so  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

Shut  in  by  hills  that  rose  above  the  town 

Like  walls  of  jade  coloured  so  bright  a  green, 

In  winter  fading  to  a  mottled  brown. 

And  much  he  talked  about  and  loved  to  tell 

Of  ships  with  sails  unfurled  to  every  breeze, 

Rising  and  falling  to  a  languid  swell, 

Or  beating  up  against  the  driving  seas 

That  draped  the  sides  with  shreds  of  lacy  foam, 

With  not  a  sign  or  light  by  which  to  steer, 

The  sun  all  blotted  out  from  the  gray  dome. 

And  then  on  days  when  the  bright  skies  were 

clear 
The  ship,  he  said,  sailed  midway  in  a  ball 
Of  crystal,  whilst  the  sun,  a  giant  face, 
Seemed    peering    through  a   blue   transparent 

wall. 
And  there  was  scarcely  anywhere  a  place 


SAILORS  51 

Where  ships  sought  harbour  that  he  had  not 

seen, 
Islands  that  sudden  reared  upstanding  tall, 
Girdled  in  foliage  of  startling  green. 
From  which  the  only  sound,  a  parrot's  call. 
Mocked  all  the  sailors  of  slow-moving  ships. 
And  he  had  sailed  through  phosphorescent  seas 
Where  the  live  silver  from  the  rudder  drips 
And  the  white  fire  is  blown  on  by  the  breeze 
Till  all  the  sea  is  as  a  liquid  flame. 
And  sometimes  at  strange  ports  the  ship  would 

lie 
Where  sea-going  vessels  very  rarely  came, 
There   bright-winged   birds    about    the    masts 

would  fly 
While  dark-skinned   natives  boarded  her  with 

wares, 


52  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

With  curious  fruits,  with  nuts  and  shells  like- 
wise ; 
The  sailors  often  paused  from  ship's  repairs 
To  laugh  and  jibe  at  the  shrill  foreign  cries. 
So  clear  the  waters  there  that  they  could  lean 
Across  the  rail  and  see  six  fathom  down, 
So  still  it  was  it  seemed  like  a  vast  screen 
On  which  were  painted  reeds  of  green  and  brown, 
Whilst  gleaming  fish  flashed  in  wide  arcs  of 

light. 
And  he  had  sailed  through  other  seas  than  these 
Where  icebergs  rise  to  a  tremendous  height, 
Gliding  like  drifting  isles  upon  the  seas 
With  colours  borrowed  from  the  rainbow's  ring  ; 
The  sailors  feared  them  more  than  wind  or  wave. 
White  sirens  of  the  seas  that  need  not  sing 
To  lure  a  ship  unto  a  cold  dark  grave. 


SAILORS  53 

He  understood  the  ways  of  winds  and  tides, 
The  terms  that  seamen  use  for  ropes  and  sails, 
To  read  a  compass  and  ship's  chart  besides. 
And  how  to  reef  a  ship  to  meet  stiff  gales.  ,  .  . 
Still  was  I  but  a  boy  the  da)'  we  crept 
About  him  as  he  lay  all  silent  there, 
And  there  were  many  there  who  quietly  wept 
And  said  his  loss  would  be  full  hard  to  bear, 
A  man  so  kindly  it  was  rare  to  know, 
Scarce  had  he  left  his  mother  for  a  day 
Since  years  long  past  her  sight  began  to  go. 
I  said,  "  But  surely  he  has  been  away 
For  many  voyages  upon  the  sea  ?  " 
They  stared  at  me  and  smoothed    the  white 

sheet  down 
And  said,  "  Why,  we  have  never  known  him  be 
More  than  a  day  or  so  outside  the  town." 


AUTUMN  SUNSET 

The  coloured  sky  curves  over  me 
Like  a  round  copper  bowl, 
The  leafless  boughs  as  tracery 
Engraved  upon  the  whole. 


54 


AT  DUSK 

I  HAVE  garnished  my  room  with  river  reeds 

And  strung  my  singing  lyre, 

I  have  filled  my  vases  with  coloured  weeds 

And  put  on  my  new  attire  ; 

Now  I  count  the  hours  on  my  amber  beads 

That  glow  with  a  hidden  fire. 

The  sun  stepped  into  a  golden  sea 
And  the  dusk  crept  up  from  the  shore, 
My  heart  is  athrill  with  melody 
And  my  feet  are  light  on  the  floor  ; 
A  voice  from  the  dusk  is  calling  me 
And  a  hand  is  laid  on  my  door. 
55 


VIERGE  CONSOLATRICE 

Oh  Mary,  listen,  know  that  yesternight 
There  winged  to  Thee  across  the  paths  of  light 
A  spirit  child  ;   wilt  softly  let  him  lie 
In  Thy  blue  robe  all  seamless  to  the  hem, 
There  hidden  from  the  silver  blossomed  sky 
And  that  great  sun,  a  yellow  flower  on  high, 
Until  his  eyes  accustomed  grow  to  them. 

He  never  knew  the  forest  hushed  at  noon, 
Or  saw  the  wonder  of  the  moth-white  moon, 
All  strange  to  him  the  widely  coloured  seas, 
Of  these  then,  Mary,  let  him  quietly  dream. 
And  hear  the  winds  that  sing  among  the  trees, 
56 


VIERGE  CONSOLATRICE  57 

And  know  the  perfumes  caught  in  every  breeze, 
So  that  familiar  may  the  far  earth  seem. 

Then  speak  to  him  all  softly  and  quite  low, 
He  stayed  so  little  time  he  will  not  know 
That  'tis  Thy  voice,  not  mine  that  now  he  hears  ; 
A  little  while  to  sigh  and  then  to  sleep, 
While  all  unconscious  of  surrounding  spheres, 
Oh  Mary,  Mother,  wilt  Thou  dry  his  tears 
And  watch  above  his  quiet  slumbers  keep  ? 


THE  DEPARTURE 

I  WATCHED  by  thy  side  all  through  the  night, 

Kneeling  by  thy  low  bed, 

Until  the  dawn's  broad  wings  of  light 

Across  the  skies  were  spread  ; 

The  lilies,  tall,  unbending,  white. 

Stood  singly  either  side  thy  head. 

So  softly  thou  wert  lying  there, 
All  languid  for  thy  rest, 
Thy  head  low  pillowed  on  thy  hair 
Which  winds  had  oft  caressed  ; 
And  for  my  arms  thou  didst  not  care. 
Nor  my  lips  upon  thine  undraped  breast. 
58 


THE  DEPARTURE  59 

There  was  no  sound  within  the  room 
Nor  stir  beside  the  door, 
No  light  did  rend  the  folding  gloom, 
And  yet  thy  soul  did  soar  ; 

And  only  the  lilies'  deep  perfume 
Prevailed,  where  thou  hadst  been  before. 


DAFFODILS 

So  many  tapers  deck  the  hills 
With  yellow  flames  alight, 
Their  fires  burn  brightly  in  the  sun, 
But  die  at  fall  of  ni^ht. 


60 


AT  THE  LOOM 

"Dear  Mother,  I  cannot  weave  my  web.     I  am  overcome 
with  longing  for  the  boy  by  the  doing  of  the  delicate  Aphrodite. " 

I  SIT  in  the  cool  blue  dusk  of  the  room 
And  hear  the  murmuring  sound  of  the  bees, 
The  threads  lie  stretched  along  the  loom, 
While  the  shuttle  slides  with  rapid  ease, 
But  my  hands  fall  wide  in  the  tender  gloom, 
For  a  whisper  of  love  is  abroad  in  the  trees. 

My  web  is  white  as  the  mist  is  white 
That  clings  to  the  curve  of  the  broken  shore. 
But  the  love  in  his  eyes  was  a  flame  alight, 
6i 


62  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

And  I  am  fain  of  all  love's  sweet  lore  ; 

He    trod    through    my   dreams    in    the    quiet 

night, 
And  my  feet  are  restless  upon  the  floor. 


BEYOND  THE  SUBURBS 

The  laden  waggons  pass  along  the  roads 
Rutted  by  wheels,  and  intermittent  rains, 
Onward  into  the  town  whose  lights  flare  high 
At  dusk  above  the  low  horizon  line. 
The  small  farm-houses  crouch  amid  the  fields 
Worn  by  the  warring  of  the  rains  and  winds, 
That  shake  the  hanging  shutters  till  they  flap 
Like   broken   wings  against   the   whitewashed 

walls. 
And  all  day  long  and  through  the  silent  night 
The  long  trains  thunder  past  into  the  town, 
Tearing  the  silences,  fraying  the  dark 
With  short  sharp  spears  of  yellow  darting  light. 
63 


64  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

At  open  doorways  lonely  figures  stand, 
Pausing  from  toil  to  watch  the  trains  go  past 
And  hear  the  whistle's  loud  discordant  scream 
Waking  the  sleeping  hollows  in  the  hills. 
For  weary,  ah  !  so  weary  are  they  grown 
Of  the  ungrateful  fields  and  callous  skies, 
The    dark  drear    dawns,  the    day's    relentless 

toil, 
And  the  long  winter's  unremitting  snows. 
And  every  night  the  town's  reflected  lights 
Seem  to  outshine  the  stars  that  pale  and  fade, 
Before  the  glow  that  spreads  across  the  skies. 
The  town  that  rears  to  skyward  its  gray  walls, 
The  town  with  its  wide  throbbing  thorough- 
fares, 
Brilliant  with  clustered   lights  and   glad  with 
sound  .  .  . 


BEYOND  THE  SUBURBS  6s 

But   some   are   worn    and    some  have   fear   of 

change, 
And  some  must  stay  to  harvest  the  ripe  grain, 
To  till  the  fields  and  take  from  earth  its  store. 
At  open  doorways  lonely  figures  stand 
And  watch  the  trains  roar  past  into  the  town. 


AN   IMPRESSION 

The  skies  are  garmented  with  gray, 

Gray  mists  above  the  sea, 

The  sun  seeks  shelter  on  this  day 

Now  when  thou  leavest  me  ; 

So  long,  so  long  the  years, 

Thine  eyes  are  clouded  gray, 

Beneath  thy  tears. 

The  coloured  hills  are  grown  to  gray. 
And  gray  the  wild  bat's  wing, 
I  see  thy  face  through  wreathing  spray, 
66 


AN  IMPRESSION  67 


Tender  with  sorrowing. 
So  long,  so  long  the  years, 
Thine  eyes  are  clouded  gray, 
Beneath  thy  tears. 


SPRING 

If  I  were  laid  asleep 

Beneath  the  sun-warmed  ground 

While  heavy  years  would  creep 

Above  me  without  sound, 

It  is  enough  for  me 

That  I  have  one  time  seen 

The  lilac-burdened  tree, 

The  daffodils'  slim  green  ; 

It  is  enough  for  me 

If  I  should  pass  away 

That  I  had  once  loved  thee 

Upon  a  mad  spring  day. 

68 


REBELLION 

The  earth   lay  wrapped   in   pale   low  hanging 

mist, 
As  some  white  tomb  all  ready  for  its  dead 
I  thought,  and  shudderingly  forward  pressed 
Into   that   shadowed   house    where    night    still 

hung 
Darkly,  as  though  it  yet  were  loath  to  leave 
While  he  lay  there  so  still  within  the  room. 

There  was  a  garden  once  where  the  rose  trees 
Were    heavy    with    white    globes    of    scented 

bloom, 
There  the  bright-shafted  arrows  of  the  moon 
Fell  down  the  amethystine  ways  of  night, 
69 


70  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

And  silence  hung  so  heavy  on  the  air 

We  scarcely  dared  to  fret  the  night  with  speech. 

Ah,  how  the  scent  of  that  rose  garden  now 
Drifts  back,  and  for  a  moment  lulls  my  pain, 
But    then    more    poignant    seems   my   heart's 

sharp  ache, 
For  he  lies  dead,  silent  and  all  alone. 

How  strange  it  is  to  be  the  first  time  here, 
And  pass  by  every  room  where  he  has  been 
Which  now  are  empty  as  a  disused  frame. 
Along  these  halls  his  feet  have  often  trod 
Unto  the  sound  of  Her  voice  calling  him, 
So  careful  of  Her  pleasure  as  his  wont.  .   .   . 
Ah,  how  the  shadows  of  these  empty  halls 
Seem  pressing  on  my  throat  to  stifle  me, 
Until  I  feel  I  may  not  reach  that  room.  .  .  . 


REBELLION  71 

I  thought  my  heart  acquainted  well  with  grief, 
But  oh,  I  had  not  known  there  was  such  woe 
In  all  the  world  as  this,  oh  God  as  this, 
To  stand  and  look  on  my  beloved  dead. 
Oh  Death,  I  did  not  know  thou  wert  so  still 
And  so  remote  from  all  this  troubled  world  ; 
Thou  takest  from  me  what  was  never  mine, 
And  yet  all  mine  the  loss,  all  mine  to  bear 
The  hungry  emptiness  of  aching  days. 

For  oh,  Beloved,  though  so  far  from  thee 
Yet  thy  love  warmed  me  as  the  distant  sun 
Lightens  a  planet  in  a  further  space, 
And  so  I  was  not  wholly  comfortless. 
Now  is  the  light  gone  out  across  the  world, 
Yet  earth  reels  always  purposelessly  round. 
Ah,  I  would  scream  aloud  unto  the  stars 


72  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

That   th')U   art   dead,  wh'it   need   have   they  to 

shine, 
What  need  have  moons  to  drift  across  the  skies, 
Or  suns  to  flare  above  a  barren  earth  ? 

Beloxed,  now  thou  art  be^'ond  the  world 
And  art  no  lon-^^er  bound  to  cherish  Her, 
But  now  shalt  love  me  as  thy  spirit  wouldst. 
Ah,  shall  repression  be  our  single  creed  ? 
All  Thou  hast  made  God,  Thou  hast  fashioned 

free, 
But  man  would  place  a  bridle  on  it  all, 
Chain  the  glad  golden  lightnings  to  his  need, 
Stem  the  bright  rivers  eager  from  the  hills, 
And  burden  earth  with  palaces  of  steel  ; 
So  would  he  place  his  rule  above  our  hearts 
And  stifle  love  with  a  remorseless  law. 


REBELLION  73 

But  now,  Beloved,  dost  thou  not  have  grief 
And  know  regret  because  of  wasted  years 
That  knew  no  profiting  but  only  loss? 
Surely  thou  seest  now  how  vain  are  laws, 
How  greatly  God  in  Heaven  esteemeth  love. 
There  was  a  garden  once  where  the  rose-trees 
Were    heavy    with    white    globes    of    scented 

bloom.  .  .   . 
Ah,    dear,    canst    thou    not    hold    thine   arms 

again 
More  wide  for  me,  I  am  so  tired  with  tears, 
And  resting  even  now  within  thine  arms 
I  might  forget  a  little  while  to  weep. 


THE  CLOWN 

With  my  face  chalked  white 

And  jokes  I  have  learned  from  a  book, 

How  I  can  make  them  laugh  ; 

But  could  I  stand  there  and  tell  them 

Just  one  part  of  what  I  have  learned  from  life 

God,  how  I  could  make  them  weep. 


74 


THE    RELEASE 

Languid   thou    art   lulled    to   such    depth    of 

sleep 
Pale  body  where  within  I  did  abide, 
Closed  eyes,  still  hands,  and  lips  that  silence 

keep, 
Since  I  have  risen  casting  thee  aside. 

Long  hast  thou  agonised  that  thou  must  lie 
All  silently  with  thy  long  travail  done, 
Greatly   it  grieved  thee  that  the  flesh  should 

die, 
Even  though  my  eternity  be  won. 
75 


76  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

Still  hands  that  giving  were  so  oft  denied, 
Tired  feet  that  trod  with  little  ease  the  day, 
Canst  thou  not  resting  now  be  satisfied, 
The  while  thy  soul  goes  shining  on  its  way? 

I  am  made  strong  by  that  which  tried  thee  so. 
By    loves,    and    hates,    and    by    thy    grieving 

fears, 
I    am    grown    strong    and    splendid     by    thy 

woe, 
And    thou    hast     shrived     me    in    thy    fallen 

tears. 

But  now  like  to  a  harassed,  wind-blown  leat 
Thou  fallest,  softly,  with  no  stir  nor  sound, 
For  thou  wert  but  the  close  enshielding  sheaf 
Which  for  an  earthly  space  thy  spirit  bound. 


THE  RELEASE  77 

So   fully    thou    hast  served   me   through    the 

years 
That  now  unvvitheringly  I  arise, 
Disdainful  even  of  the  pendant  spheres 
That  seemed  eternal  to  thy  witless  e)-es. 

I  shall  endure  what  time  the  flagrant  sun 
Is  but  a  crumbling  handful  of  spent  dust, 
When  the  globed  worlds  their  silvern  course 

have  run 
And  into  long  oblivion  are  thrust. 

Ah,  be  thou  satisfied  that  I  endure 
Beyond  the  world  that  must  suffice  for  thee, 
For  by  thy  passions  thou  hast  made  so  sure 
I  shall  arise  to  immortality. 


COLD 

The  cold, 

The  slow,  slow  cold, 

That  steals  so  stealthil)^  through  all  the  earth, 

Chilling  the  metals  hidden  in  the  ground, 

Lying  in  wait  in  deep  green  watered  wells, 

Or  in  dank    ruins  fringed  with  coarse   leafed 

weed. 
The  cold, 

The  slow,  slow  cold. 

That  rises  to  the  heart  of  sun-dyed  flowers, 
And  shelters  in  green  sheathing  HI)'  leaves. 
That  lies  in  pools  so  deep  the  sun's  slim  gold 
Can  never  pierce  nor  warm  with  its  flecked  light. 
78 


COLD  79 

The  cold, 

The  slow,  slow  cold, 

That  creeps  up  witheringly  through  the  flesh, 

Chilling   the    pale    warm   bloom,    blurring   the 

gold, 
Freezing  to  quiet  the  once  eager  limbs 
With  heavy  cold,  the  dull  white  cold  of  death. 


THE  DAY'S  ENDING 

The  colour  fades  from  out  the  daffodils, 
And  shadows  creeping  are  of  tender  gray, 
The  sapphire  darkens  on  the  further  hills, 
I  have  been  overlong  upon  the  way. 

Now  like  a  crocus  bloom  the  evening  skies. 
The  sun  hath  flung  its  vesture  to  the  seas, 
Dream  lieth  heavy  on  my  tired  eyes, 
I  am  grown  weary  and  am  fain  for  ease. 

The  sun  hath  given  joyously  its  light 
And  now  hath  been  enfolded  in  the  west. 
Lord,  I  am  ready  for  Thy  pleasant  night. 
Fold  me  in  sleep,  for  I  am  fain  for  rest. 
80 


THE  OLD  HOUSE 

Safe  sheltered  in  a  lilac-breathing  lane 
The  dust  of  years  is  gray  upon  its  doors, 
And  through  a  broken  blind  a  yellow  stain 
Of  sunlight  lies  across  untrodden  floors. 

Quiet  and  dusk,  and  here  a  shattered  loom 
Stands    voiceless    now    through     many    silent 

days, 
While  in  a  further  corner  soft  with  gloom 
A  cradle  hides  from  every  wanton  gaze. 

Full  many  years  have  drifted  past  recall 
Since  she  has  gone  who  herein  did  abide, 
F  8i 


S2  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

Only  the  heavy  shadows  shrouding  fall 
About    the    place    where    she    has  lived    and 
died. 

There  was  broad  space  for  dreams  within  the 

door 
Which  night  encurtained  with  its  purple  fold, 
Till  dawning  breezes  murmured  of  the  lore 
Of  field  and  forest  and  of  grassy  wold. 

Her  simple  mind  was  all  unvexed  by  creeds, 
Her  soul  was  as  an  instrument  attuned 
Unto  the  faith  that  furnished  all  her  needs, 
With  spirit  things  her  spirit  oft  communed. 

Tranquil  those    years  which    yielded    joys  so 

slight, 
Surely  within  her  heart  there  was  unrest. 


THE  OLD  HOUSE  83 

What  time  the  silver  moon  thrilled  through  the 

night 
And  laid  its  shining  fingers  on  her  breast. 

Perchance  'twas   then    she    planted    there   the 

rose 
That  bears  its  crimson  bloom  so  gladl\'  still, 
Its    colour    warmed     her    days    perhaps,  none 

knows 
What   dreams  of  her   had   winged  across  the 

hill. 

Unknown    to     her    were    worlds    beyond    the 

sea, 
Only  familiar  objects  held  her  gaze. 
Yet  with  all  truth  and  in  simplicity 
With  love  and  labour  she  made  full  her  days. 


84  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

No  more  her  years  are  checkered  joy  and  pain, 
Her  hands  no  longer  work  the  silenced  loom, 
But  still  does  memory  of  her  remain 
Amid  the  shadows  of  her  quiet  room. 


TO  A  GREEK  STATUE 

White  goddess,  still,  and  strangely  beautiful, 

Chiselled  in  marble  by  a  mortal  hand 

That    shaped     thy     brow     and     carved     thee 

equally 
In  all  thy  length  and  purity  of  limb  ; 
Thou  art  the  rapt  conception  of  a  man 
When  in  his  dreaming,  momentarily, 
His  soul  came  very  close  to  the  Sublime  ; 
Thou    art    the   height    of   what   a   man   could 

dream 
And  seemeth  perfect  to  untutored  eyes. 
Beggared  I  stand  before  thy  flawlessness, 
Crude  clay  part  moulded  to  a  mighty  plan  ; 
85 


86  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

But  still  within  the  spark  of  the  Divine 
Doth  labour  till  the  whole  be  greatly  hewn 
To  His  Design  ;  for  He  hath  clreanned  also 
A  dream,  and  I  am  but  the  shapeless  clay 
With  which  His  Hand  doth  strangely  fashion 

it. 
Grave  goddess,  perfect  in  thy  purity, 
If  thou  the  dreamed  conception  of  a  man 
Then  to  what  dizzy  summits  may  God  dream  ? 


APRIL 

In  deepest  woods  there  is  a  vernal  stir 

Wiiile    earth    is    quickened    with    the    tender 

green, 
Blue  waters  rend  their  crystal  sepulchre, 
And  there  is  life  where  death   like  sleep  hath 

been. 

Bird  voices  haunt  the  golden-lighted  days, 
And  snowdrops  glimmer  whitely  in  the  grass. 
While  in  the  twilight  of  the  hidden  ways 
All  greenly  veiled  Persephone  doth  pass. 


87 


THE  LITTLE  STONE  HOUSE 

Gray  walled  and  roofed  my  house  shall  be, 
Stone  piled  on  chiselled  stone, 
With  subtly  fashioned  mansionry 
Where  one  may  dwell  alone. 

I  shall  not  care  to  open  wide 
My  closely  fastened  door, 
I  shall  not  see  the  stars  outside 
But  dreams  shall  pave  my  floor. 

Quiet  my  house  where  I  shall  sleep 
Day  and  the  long  night  too, 
The  perfume  of  wan  flowers  shall  steep 
My  chamber  through  and  through. 


THE  LITTLE  STONE  HOUSE  89 

And  there  from  all  the  world  aloof 
White  pillowed  I  shall  lie, 
With  no  unrest  beneath  my  roof 
While  silent  hours  slip  by. 


FULL  NOON 

Wide  fields  of  yellow  crocus  are  ablaze, 
Unshadowed  even  by  a  cloud  in  flight, 
Only  a  bird  swift  dipping  earthward  sways 
A  moment,  dazzled  by  the  flood  of  light 
The  while  the  shadow  of  its  spreading  wings 
Darkens  the  bloom  ;   close  to  the  grass-grown 

ground 
Each  little  darting  insect  shrilly  sings, 
Filling  the  air  with  steady  hum  of  sound. 
The  pool  lies  silver  rounded  as  a  dish 
And  stiffly  fringed  about  with  upright  trees 
That  cast  no  shade  ;  no  stir  of  leaping  fish 
Troubles  its  calm  ;  so  languid  is  the  breeze 
90 


FULL  NOON  91 

It  scarcely  stirs  the  silken  leaves  to  sound. 
The  hot  clay  road  that  lies  across  the  hill 
Is  as  a  crimson  ribbon  come  unwound 
Along  the  grass,  where  the  bright  corn-flowers 

spill 
Their  colour,  like  small  patches  of  blue  shade 
To  ease  the  ache  from  too  great  light  above. 
A  white  skirt  flickers  in  a  green  hid  glade 
And  voices  falter  in  the  noon  of  love  .   .   . 
And  yet  already  in  the  deeper  wood 
The  leaves  are  gath'ring  shadows  for  the  night. 
And  down  the  hill,  bent  low  beneath  her  hood, 
An  old  gray  woman  stumbles  in  the  light. 


BURIAL 

Come  now  and  let  us  bury  love, 

And  let  it  lie, 

All  things  shall  die, 

And  one  stupendous  year  of  love 

Had  you  and  I. 


92 


AT  NIGHT 

If  thou  mightst  see  the  silver  light 

Low  lying  on  the  ground, 

The  deep,  the  dark,  the  silent  night 

With  white  moths  stirring  round  ; 

The  pale  rose  bathing  in  the  dew 

As  thick  as  fallen  rain. 

And  knew  the  skies  embroidered  blue 

Thou  wouldst  return  again. 


93 


THE  DEAD  SOUL 

When  they  have  borne  me  out  beyond  the  hill 
And  laid  me  down  behind  that  chiselled  door, 
I  shall  lie  there  forever  wanly  still, 
And  none  that  live  or  die  shall  see  me  more. 

So  frail  my  soul,  I  think  it  could  not  rise 
Above  the  earth  when  I  should  come  to  rest, 
But  as  a  flame  blown  by  a  night  wind  dies 
So  should  it  fade  what  time  it  leaves  my  breast. 

For  all  too  well  thou  hast  long  cherished  me, 
Bringing  me  amber  for  my  sun-swept  hair. 
Silks  woven  silver  as  a  moon-drowned  sea, 
Corals  and  topaz  for  mine  arms  to  bear. 
94 


THE  DEAD  SOUL  95 

Too  much  thou  gavest,  naught  I  was  denied, 

No  burden  in  my  empty  arms  was  laid, 

My    small    love    weakened    thy    strong     love 

beside, 
Earth's  very  fullness  on  my  spirit  weighed. 

Weak   was    my    soul,  it    could    not    learn    to 

grieve 
For  those  who  wept,  unfeeling  of  their  pain, 
Pale  hands,  untoiling,  eager  to  receive 
Without  a  will  to  give  to  earth  again. 

My  soul  could  never  gain  on  unfledged  wings 
Beyond  the  silver  fretting  of  the  stars, 
'Twill  die  upon  the  breeze  that  lightly  springs 
Before  the  golden  gate  of  day  unbars. 


96  DRAWN  SHUTTERS 

And  so  at  length  when  I  shall  fall  asleep 
No  shining  soul  shall  ever  rise  from  me, 
Only  long  silence  shall  my  dead  soul  keep 
While  winds  shall  blow  my  dust  upon  the  sea. 


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